Lean On Me
by curliecues
Summary: What I feel should have happened in the "Stewmaker" (1x04) episode when Ressler was escorting Keen to the ambulance. Told from Keen and Ressler's POVs. One-shot.


**A/N: **I was watching the fourth episode "The Stewmaker" and the scene at the end where Ressler is supporting Keen just really made me think about them as a pairing, especially Ressler's expression when Keen just fell into him. This takes place while Ressler and Keen are making their way through the forest to the ambulance.

**Disclaimer: I do not own the show or the characters**

Keen's POV

Everything hurts. My arms. My legs. My head. My brain. My heart. If Ressler weren't here, I don't know how I'd be able to hold this blanket around myself. Not that the blanket was giving me any warmth. Ironically, all the warmth was coming from Ressler. Not that he'd been the most welcoming when I arrived on the team. Yet, I knew that his warmth- and strength- was what was keeping me upright at the moment. His literal strength. Although I definitely admired his values and his work ethic. And his courage. And his hands. His beautiful, rough hands. Which were currently holding my shoulders. And the blanket. God bless the blanket. Speaking of God I could really use him right now. Or any kind of divine intervention. Ever since I was arbitrarily assigned to work on Cooper's team thanks to a wonderful letter of recommendation from Red Reddington, my life has felt….off. I can't even describe it, I just knew something is different. Like the 'you walk into your room and you could've sworn you had closed your window but voila, it's open' kind of off. There's no way I could talk to Tom about this. Tom was actually part of the problem. One of the biggest parts of the problem. Aside from the weekly murders and hostage situations. Which I was just subject to not even five minutes ago.

"Watch out for that tree root." Ressler's husky voice was music to my ears. Was it awful that I just wanted him to stop dragging me to an ambulance and just hold me? Tell me that he valued me on the team, that he wasn't suspicious of me. That if I ever needed to talk I could come to him. Even though I probably never would. Who talks about their husband to their male co-worker who is around the same age and doesn't seem like the type who likes to gossip in a break room? But an invite would be nice. Anyway, the tree root was approaching and I had to will my brain to stop thinking about all the other pain I was feeling- and unnecessary Ressler emotions- so I could get ready to lift my leg over it.

"Oof, shit." I apparently thought too highly of my legs' mobility at the moment , because my leg barely lifted a centimeter. Luckily Ressler had planned for this weakness and supported me. Again. Now it was getting old. I could take care of myself. Oh how I wanted to have the strength to push him away and limp to the ambulance myself, but my body protested. And my heart. Which was oddly enjoying this victim act. This needed to end. I meant to say, "Ressler I can very well take care of my own damn self. Please escort me from a distance." What happened next was worse than any scenario I could've thought up in the five seconds before it occurred. Right as I attempted to turn my body away from Ressler, another tree root came out of nowhere and I stumbled forward. Ressler was caught off guard and only managed to stumble along with me, though he stayed on his feet. The minute my body was away from him, I felt cold. Alone. Weaker than before. Exposed. Vulnerable. Not to mention, in extreme pain. But the mental pain was worse than the physical injuries. Hitting the cold, hard ground was what I imagined hitting the cold, linoleum bathtub would be like in the Stewmaker's psychotic rustic cabin. And then the tears started. And wouldn't stop. I curled into fetal position, the blanket half on and half off. Unlike my pride, which was completely gone. I could feel Ressler watching me, and I wasn't in the mood to see if he was looking at me with pity or scorn. Either way, I was still going to cry. And I did not want to make prolonged eye contact as I sobbed my crumbling heart out. Maybe the leaves would make room for me down here on rock bottom, which was always where I seemed to end up at these days.

Ressler's POV

Liz was down. It looked like a hard fall, even without all the injuries she must be holding in right now. Except now she wasn't holding them in, they were leaking from her eyes and mingling with her tears. Seeing her there, on the ground, made my heart ache for her. Not from pity- Keen was too respectable and professional to do something to garner pity from me- but because I can't even begin to fathom what being in the Stewmaker's cabin must have been like. She was tied to a chair and barely conscious when I got there. I still vividly remember everything that happened- and I mean everything- when I stalked through the doorway. Time slowed down and sped up at the same time. My FBI-protocol mind was kicking in, so I automatically looked for the Stewmaker himself. After noting his location and proximity, I checked on Red, who seemed like he was trying to rein in his anger. But from what I didn't know. Until Red made intense eye contact with me and moved his eyes in the direction of the middle of the cabin. My head swiveled and there she was. Liz. Head lolling and eyes vacant. Hands tied. Shirt stained. Hair tangled. Hope lost. Trying to remain professional I kept my gun up for a second longer, then proceeded to quickly fasten it to my gun holster and move toward her. For some reason all the other FBI agents seemed to know that I wanted to be the one to check on her. Maybe it was because she was my partner; my obligation was to her and her safety. But maybe there was something more. I shook my head; this was not the time for petty feelings, not when Liz's vitals were in question. I slowly approached her sadistic wheelchair, trying to read her face, trying to see any ounce of life in those hazy eyes. Her head made the slightest move-maybe it was a trick of the light, my mind was begging for any head movement- and within seconds my hand shot out and cupped her face. I don't know how I could let myself have a public moment like that. I had just wanted to touch her skin, feel her warmth. Know she was alive. God she better be alive.

Later on Liz and I were making our way to the ambulance, walking down a path in the woods that was a little ways away from the other agents scurrying about. Liz and I seemed to be detached from them, taking our time getting to the ambulance and assessing the damage of her injuries. I had wanted to say something to her, something along the lines of "Are you ok" but all I could manage was "Watch out for that tree root" which she then tripped on. Luckily I caught her, and I could feel my mind ease when she tucked herself back into my shoulder. But then she was falling. Then she was on the ground.

"Keen. Keen are you ok? Can you feel your legs? Keen?" I was acting like an FBI robot again. She needed comfort, warmth. I felt like I was a block of ice while supporting her. No wonder she didn't make any attempt to reach for me when she feel. Maybe her injuries were worse than I thought. Without thinking, I lunged towards her, gently rolling her onto her back towards me. She was even beautiful when she was having a mental breakdown.

Keen's POV

He was even more beautiful when he was leaning over me. I couldn't make out what he had said before, but it was probably a government standard thing to say, like "Can you feel your legs?" Still, he was leaning over her. And he looked genuinely perturbed by my condition. Or just extremely uncomfortable. I wished I was. I wished I didn't love having his focus be 100% on me. Through all these thoughts the tears kept streaming down. Ressler's mouth opened a little; he was trying to figure out what to say. Then he did something much better than talk.

Ressler's POV

She was crying. God was she crying. How long had she held these tears in? These emotions, these thoughts? He wished he was even the slightest bit nurturing. He knew if he tried to say anything it would go about as well as his first attempt did. So instead, he acted. He hugged her.

Keen's POV

It was as if time stopped. The forest was ours and only ours. Even if it was a hug, it was extremely personal. Especially because I don't think Ressler hands out free hugs every now and then. After looking at me for a while and analyzing my face- which made me feel like I was under a microscope- Ressler had decided to hug me. It was smooth and efficient, the way he hugged me, yet amazingly warm and genuine. He swiftly yet gently pulled me up from the ground and enveloped me in one of the warmest embraces I've ever had. The tears still came, but they came with silence. No more sobs. Until he made the mistake of rubbing my back. This was never a scenario I would have imagined us being in. Both of us, on the forest floor, Ressler kneeling/sitting and me in his lap finally letting go of all my emotions, all my thoughts. His shoulder definitely went into the "shoulder to cry on" category. And his head had fallen on top of my head. His face was so close. If I wanted to, I could turn and tell him the exact color and shade of his eyes. I could count his eyelashes. I could touch his face. I could…..I could do anything. Sitting on the ground, with Ressler cradling me like this, I felt like I could accomplish any task. I could feel my stamina and willpower and strength rising up in me again. Then, Ressler threw another curveball my way. He uttered my name.

Ressler's POV

"Liz." The word was out before I had a chance to register what was happening. All my thoughts before had been on making sure Liz got off the ground, that she continued moving, that she didn't let this Stewmaker ordeal get to her. But the minute her body came crashing into mine, the minute I realized we were hugging, scratch that, cuddling; my thoughts went into the newly unlocked door in my brain that had belonged to Liz. Every thought I had concerning her, all the personal ones, all the unprofessional ones where locked away in there. All I could think about was how her body perfectly melded with mine. How my head on top of her's felt right. How if I looked down at her face from this angle, I could recount to her how many breaths she took in a minute. I could tell her the exact shade of lipstick she was wearing, even though most of it had come off due to the time of day. Instead I opted to whisper her name, so close to her ear that it probably didn't count as a whisper. I felt her body stop moving. Then she was screaming and sobbing and her body was violently shaking. It was the exact opposite effect I was going for. Liz was in pain, real pain. Every kind. All at once. I continued to rub her back and cradle her head. I could feel her face turning towards mine before I even realized what was about to transpire next.

Keen's POV

"Liz." I felt him say my name before he said it. I could feel the rhythm of his heart; I could feel the comfort in the air around us. I don't think either of us was expecting the reaction I was going to have after he beautifully whispered my name. My first name. My personal name. Not even Elizabeth. Not even Lizzie. Liz. It sounded so much better when he said it. When my name smoothly rolled of his tongue, I lost it. It was easy to cry on his shoulder, knowing that he wouldn't ask questions, he wouldn't inquire how I was feeling mentally, only FBI protocol questions. I know, I was briefed with them too. I was prepared. But I could never have been prepared for this. It was like by opening up to him, he opened up to me. He let himself care for someone in a more than partner way. He let himself be emotional, he let himself be passionate. If I weren't crying I'd be rejoicing for dragging emotions out from within him. There was probably a backstory there, a tragic history with women that he clearly wouldn't tell me, considering we aren't friends. So what are we now? Would the fact that we had both opened up to each other without words show later on. Clearly tomorrow would be weird. But what about next week? Next month? Next hostage situation? I couldn't think about this anymore; my body was starting to slump. I was getting tired, more fatigued. The drugs from the Stewmaker were still taking their toll. Ressler noticed. He pulled me away from him, so that he could look at me head on. Which was too overwhelming considering how much my heart ached for his eyes and his words and his arms around me. "Stay with me Liz." I tried to nod but my head ended up being too heavy and it kind of just hung to the side, which would be uncomfortable if I could feel the muscles in my neck. Ressler's eyes started to look crazed, he knew I was fading. I was losing him, the passionate him, the other 50% of him that was nice to be with. As his eyes raked over my body, checking for signs of internal bleeding, I managed to gather up all my remaining strength and propel myself towards him, stopping myself inches from his mouth. I held his face for dear life, even though I knew I probably wasn't going to die. Probably.

"No Don, you stay with me." Ressler stopped searching for blood and looked at me. Really looked at me. Confrontation with my soul kind of looking. He seemed to understand what I meant. I saw his eyes glinting: he was crying. I tried to smile and ended up gasping for breath, because with all my attention on every detail of his face and my acute sense of his hands on my waist and around my neck holding my head up, I forgot to breath. Ressler let out a pained noise and in an attempt to hold on to his solider stature, he growled.

"Don't you leave me Liz. Goddamn it breathe. Remember your training. Remember what you know." I could feel blackness ebb at my consciousness, my body and mind were too overwhelmed to keep me awake. I wanted so badly to give in to the dark, but I just needed to hear Ressler talk. I needed to remember everything that came out of gorgeous mouth.

"Don. I'm sorry." Ressler stopped repeating things I should remember. His eyes squinted a little; he genuinely had no idea what I was sorry for. I forged on. "I'm sorry I came into your life so abruptly. Everyone on our- sorry- your team, earned a spot there. I just showed up because of a recommendation from a criminal. I'm so sorry. I.." I couldn't go on. It was too painful. Watching him react was too painful. At first he was just shocked that I brought it up, now he seemed mad.

"Goddamn it Liz, why would you bring that up now. Is this really what you think we should be talking about? I really should be sprinting to the ambulance while carrying you." This deserved a scoff.

"Like you would carry me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Before this interesting development, we never had any physical contact. What makes you think you'd scoop me up and haul ass towards the ambulance without wanting to drop me in a pile of leaves along the way?" His eyes sparkled as he realized we were having witty banter, which was a specialty we both possessed.

"This was fun Keen. Let's do this again." Hearing him say my last name, even amiably, made me sad. I guess the real fun was truly over. As our spirits died down, the mood got serious again. I started to fade, faster than before. The ambulance was too far away for me to get any immediate medical attention, and besides, I don't think Ressler was capable of letting me go. And I didn't want him to.

"Don?" I had to tell him, had to tell him how much this meant to me. How him revealing himself to me was more than I could have asked for. Ressler came closer to me, if that was possible, and we seemed to be breathing the same breath. The air around us felt like the inside of a soda can.

"Yes Liz." There was my name again. Spoken like God himself was calling me. Let's hope that wasn't the case.

"Don. Please, just promise me you'll, I…" The drugs were finally taking over, making me seem like a drunken sailor, my tongue twisting itself over simple words. But Ressler already knew what I was going to say. He leaned in, slowly, and the words "I know" were murmured into my mouth before our lips were in an embrace of their own. It was better than anything I could've hoped for. Even if he went back to hating me tomorrow, or even later this same day, I would cherish this moment, this tamed yet frantic kiss. This was nothing like Tom. Tom was the bland cereal I had every morning, but Ressler was the coffee that kept me going. Ressler made my insides warm and fuzzy and he erased my pain. I never wanted it to end.

Ressler's POV

It ended too soon. I knew it the moment I started to retract my mouth from hers. I knew she was disappointed, yet she seemed satisfied at having gotten something she wanted that she hadn't explicitly asked for. The kiss was smooth and fiery; Liz's emotions seemed to come from within her soul into mine. She had still been cupping my face and when a few tears spilled out, she wiped them with her delicate hands. I was careful to hold her head up and hold her waist, even though that was more for my benefit than hers. It was perfect, yet imperfect. Imperfect because she was married, perfect because, well because I hadn't felt that alive in months. And I could somehow tell that she was the same way. I envied Tom. He got to pick her up from the hospital, he got to drive her home and smoothly slide his hand into hers if she started to silently cry. He would get to cup her face at night while kissing her tears away and reassuring her that everything would be okay, that if anyone so much as pointed a gun at her, their jugular would be splattered on the wall in the next second. So many things I couldn't say. So many things I couldn't do.

Keen's POV

There were so many things I wanted to do. I wanted to grab his face again and roughly press it against mine; I wanted to absorb his energy, his passion, his soul. I was being greedy. This kiss would never happen again. It happened in a moment of weakness. Besides, I was starting to recede into unconsciousness again, and who knew if I would wake up and remember this happened. Who knew if I did if Ressler would brush it off? Who knew if he would ever talk to me again? This was so unfair. Why did the one moment of passion I finally have after months with a guy who is supposedly supposed to make me happy until the day I die have to be so fleeting? Was this a goddamn Greek tragedy? How am I supposed to move on from this? How am I supposed to do anything ever again without remembering the feel of Ressler's lips on mine?

Ressler's POV

How? Why? What's next for us? How are we to move past this, even though I don't want to move past this? She was the one with the plus one after all; I have nothing on my plate. I'm ready. I will stay ready. That's it. I'll just be a steady constant for her, waiting until she is ready. I'll let her take the reins, for once in our partnership. If she could hear my thoughts she'd curse at me. She knows I'm joking. She knows so much about me now.

Keen's POV

He knows so much now. He knows what I feel towards him. I know what I feel towards him. That's it then. "Don?" He smiles at me, probably knowing I'm going to say something sarcastic or witty. Not this time. "Don't forget me. Don't forget us. Please don't…"

"Forget this? Liz, I couldn't if I tried. Now please, can I get you to a hospital?" And then he did the unthinkable, he scooped me up and carried me to the ambulance, much to the awe of the other agents. That smug bastard.

**A/N: **Sadly, it's over. I had way too much fun writing this. Even though I love the fact that the show can stand along without a romantic pairing, I'd still like to see more Keen/Ressler action. Even if it's just friendship. Tom is so creepy though. Who else was hoping he'd be a criminal? Ah well, I hope you enjoyed my story.


End file.
